Bar Fight with a Bloodsucker
by John Lee Hawk
Summary: Jack Reacher is reputed to be literature's toughest tough guy, but what happens when he gets himself into a fight with something paranormal?


8

Bar Fight with a Bloodsucker

Reacher stepped out of the car. Hitchhiking for most of the day, he decided to spend the night in a small town in Kansas. Reacher had no set destination, but the guy driving was on his way to Topeka, and Reacher knew for a fact he did not want to go there. So, he squeezed his way out of the small car, and walked into town. His objective was to find a place to get coffee, and maybe some food. But mostly coffee. Reacher needed coffee the same way a sports car needed gasoline. And not one of those fancy brews or iced bastardizations of coffee, either.

Finally, Reacher found just the place he was looking for, a local diner. They often had the kind of coffee he wanted, and maybe some food he could stomach. Navigating his 6'5, barrel chested frame through the narrow door, Reacher saw ten tables, five booths, a pool table, and a bar. All were teaming with customers. Reacher's eyes lit up when he saw the right side of the bar was only a couple of feet away from the wall, meaning a man his size could sit at the bar and still have his back to the wall. The best of both worlds.

Reacher sat down, ordering coffee and a cheeseburger. After a couple of minutes, Reacher noticed everybody turning their heads toward the door. He saw a solitary man walking in. Reacher's keen sense of observation had saved his life innumerable times, and he could see everybody in the diner knew who this newcomer was. Reacher could also sense this man was bad news. To his disappointment, the man sat down right next to Reacher.

"So I see you're new in town," the stranger said. "My name's Alexander."

Reacher said nothing. Alexander put his index finger on the bartop, and slowly left a deep scratch on it with his fingernail. The prominently visible scratch caught Reacher's attention, and he suddenly found himself making eye contact with Alexander.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Jack Reacher," the traveler felt compelled to say, as if he had no choice. That was very unusual for Reacher. He preferred using aliases, usually obscure ex-presidents or Yankees second-basemen.

"Where you from?"

"Nowhere," Reacher replied.

"Really?" Alexander asked with an incredulous tone.

"I was born on a military base near Berlin," Reacher clarified.

"Interesting," Alexander said, before ordering a beer. Reacher took another sip of coffee.

"Awfully late to be drinking coffee," Alexander observed. "You know, coffee's said to slow down blood-flow."

Reacher shrugged.

"It's always been good for me," he said. Reacher kept looking around, and everyone was staring at Alexander.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Alexander asked.

"I'm retired Army," Reacher replied.

"What'd you do in the Army?"

"I was in the Military Police."

"Ever see combat?"

"We get deployed all over," Reacher said. "My unit specialized in investigations."

"So, you were an Army detective?" Alexander asked.

"You could call it that," Reacher replied. "The difference between me and most detectives is that every suspect I had was a trained killer, innocent or guilty."

"Sounds tough."

"That's for damn sure."

Reacher finished his coffee and dinner, before taking a good look at Alexander. Scanning him with his eyes, hoping Alexander's body language would indicate who he was, Reacher was surprised to see he practically had none.

"What time is it?" Alexander asked.

"9:30," Reacher replied. Alexander was surprised.

"I didn't see you look at a clock or watch," he commented.

"I don't need one," Reacher responded. Alexander nodded.

"That's an interesting ability you have," he said. Reacher suddenly realized something.

"Why am I telling you all this?" he asked, rhetorically.

"Because I want you to," Alexander replied. Reacher sensed Alexander was up to something no-good.

"Why is everybody in here's been staring at you since you walked in," Reacher observed. "Why is that?"

Alexander was silent, and kept staring at Reacher, who stared right back at him.

"I'm a man with a rule, Alexander. People leave me alone, I leave them alone. If they don't, I don't."

Alexander shifted in his barstool, now facing Reacher.

"You're saying I should be afraid of you?" he asked. Suddenly, Alexander moved to strike Reacher, but Reacher caught his hand. Instead of just letting Alexander's hand go, Reacher crushed four of Alexander's fingers with his bare hand. Alexander cried out in pain, and then Reacher released his hand.

"That's why you should be afraid of me," Reacher said. Everyone else in the diner stared at the two men, terrified.

Alexander gave Reacher a long stare, one filled not with pain but brimming with anger and bloodlust. Reacher then heard a strange sound, and he suddenly saw the bones in Alexander's fingers moving.

"What the –"

The shattered fingers suddenly snapped back into place, and Alexander began moving his newly-healed fingers.

"You should be afraid of me, Jack Reacher," he said, lunging at Reacher with a very surprising amount of momentum. Reacher got off his barstool, working hard to keep his attacker at bay, before launching a powerful kick to Alexander's rib cage. Alexander went flying into a wall, but quickly got up and jumped toward Reacher at super-human speed. Hell, it seemed like he was flying toward him. Reacher caught him in mid-air, and threw him out of a nearby window. Crashing through glass, Alexander landed hard in street. Reacher was about to pay for his meal when Alexander walked back in, seemingly unharmed.

"You've got to be kidding me," Reacher muttered. Standing 6'5 and built like a brick wall, Jack Reacher was never one to run away from a fight, especially a fight with a scrawny, 6'2…

Alexander suddenly lunged again. He missed Reacher the first time, crashing into a mirror on the other side of the bar. Launching off of the wall, he lunged again, this time crashing into a table near Reacher.

"What, were you in the circus or something?" Reacher asked. With lighting-speed, Alexander swiped his hand at Reacher. He kept doing it, and Reacher kept blocking him. But Alexander made a few lucky hits. Reacher began feeling a stinging pain in his arms, and saw they were covered in cuts. He looked at Alexander's hands, and saw they were covered in blood. His blood, and the blood looked like it was dripping off of extra-long fingernails. Or claws, maybe.

Alexander could sense Reacher's fear. Looking Reacher in the eye, his mind was hacking into Reacher's, and used this psychic intrusion to amplify Reacher's fear. Seeing Reacher's size and having experience Reacher's strength, Alexander decided to take out Reacher's mind by terrifying him. With his fear involuntarily kicked into high-gear, Reacher would soon be overwhelmed.

But Reacher did not react to fear the way most people did. Most people ran away and hid from what scared them. But Reacher did not run away from things that scared him, it just made him angry. Very angry. Reacher's reaction to something scary was to attack it. With his psychically-amplified fear channeled into aggression, Reacher went on the warpath.

Alexander was too surprised to block the first punch. He got back up quickly, and tried to counter, but Reacher just grabbed him. Holding him in place, Reacher headbutted Alexander. The sound of skulls colliding made the observing customers in the diner react with horror. Temporarily dazed, Alexander then looked back up at Reacher. His teeth were bared, and his canine teeth seemed longer than they should have been.

Alexander tried to grab Reacher again, and Reacher threw him again, this time sending across the diner. Alexander got back up, did a backflip, then propelled himself from the wall behind him with his legs and practically soared toward Reacher. But Reacher was ready, this time.

Jack Reacher knew how to break a person's neck with only one blow, and he heard Alexander's neck snap when he flew right into Reacher's fist. With his neck completely broken, Alexander's head was hanging only by skin and arteries. His head moved in strange directions before hitting the ground and rolling.

Reacher was sure Alexander was dead, but he proved Reacher wrong. A chill went down Reacher's spine as he heard the same sound from when Alexander's fingers were healing. This time, Alexander's neck snapped back into place, and he got back up.

Jack Reacher had spent most of his life beating fear into submission, but fear landed a lucky sucker punch, this time.

The fight went on for a while. Frightened townsfolk stood by, watching with shock. Reacher used his strength, skills, bottles, and anything else he could smash his opponent with, while Alexander mostly used his claws to fight Reacher. His arms and back received the worst damage from Alexander's claws. Reacher used a plethora of methods to pulverize Alexander, but the undead man kept getting back up.

Reacher looked around, trying to form a new battle plan. Then, over by the pool table, Reacher saw one of his favorite weapons. Pool cues. Throwing Alexander for the umpteenth time, Reacher ran over and picked one up. Alexander landed a nasty scratch to Reacher's torso, and Reacher broke the stick over his head. Alexander briefly reacted, then stood back up, looking Reacher in the eye, again. Reacher stared right back at him, his eyes radiating defiance. Alexander could see right into Reacher's soul, and saw a scared little boy who decided he was done being scared. The boy was not trying to conquer his fear, he was trying to fight his fear. He was trying to kill the fear that had plagued him earlier in life. Alexander saw a man who had natural born strength, attaining a remarkable level of physical power without regular exercise. He saw a boy, big for his age, who was always afraid of being trapped in a small room or doorway. He also saw a man with living family left, who had almost died numerous times before this fight. Looking into Reacher's eyes, Alexander also saw a man who had killed dozens of enemies without remorse.

What Alexander did not see was that, with the pool cue broken in half, the stick now had a pointy end Reacher could stab with. Alexander tried to tap into Reacher's fear again, but Reacher plunged the sharp end of the broken pool cue into Alexander's chest. Blood flowed from Alexander's mouth as he lost his footing. Alexander fell to the ground and died. Reacher towered over him, relieved this horrifying foe was finally dead. He had been in plenty of bar fights before, but Jesus. This guy had not even been a guy, he had been a thing. Some sort of creature that looked and seemed human, but would not die like a human. At least, not immediately.

"There're others like him, Mister," an onlooker with a large beard suddenly told Reacher.

"What?" he asked.

"Alexander arrived in town with a group of friends months ago," the bearded man continued. "They were all like him, the same powers and stuff. We made a deal with them: we leave them alone, they leave us alone. But they don't like strangers at all. When newcomers like you arrive in town, that's when they go on the hunt. And they gonna be real pissed when they find out about this."

Reacher quickly got the hell out of that weird town. Luckily Jack Reacher, moving from place to place was something he exceled at.

(Disclaimer: I do not own Jack Reacher. The Jack Reacher series is owned by author Lee Child.)


End file.
